


Lorel

by LakotaSunDancer



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Prideful woman is prideful., Triggers, protective!Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakotaSunDancer/pseuds/LakotaSunDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely night at the forge takes an unexpected turn when our dwarf prince finds something amiss in the outer tunnels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Physical abuse
> 
> I really hope some of you enjoy this story. I wrote it as a form of metaphorical therapy of sorts, and I hope it's fairly believeable.
> 
> I'm considering adding a sequel to this story as well, or maybe a few short add-ons, so if any of you have suggestions for a continuation, please let me know! I'd love to see a little more of Thorin and Lorel.

It started as a dull commotion far off in the deep. A low, rumbling of raised voices that echoed faintly off the cavern walls, the sound bouncing and flitting here and there off of boulder and stone until finally, it reached his ears. 

Thorin lowered his pickaxe just a little and cocked his head with a furrowed brow. It was late, much later than anyone, even he, ought to be out in the mines. What in Durin's name was anyone doing up at this hour? And causing such a racket to boot? His strong hands tightened around the handle of his axe and he smirked to himself. He supposed he was one to talk, down here into the wee hours of the morning, smashing loudly away at the rock. He listened a moment longer, ears pricked in the direction of the sound, and when he heard nothing more for a few moments, turned back to his work with a grunt and a shrug. 

The blows from his axe came fast against the solid brown rock, but beneath he could see the faint cerulean glow of another tanzanite, possibly the sixth or seventh he'd uncovered this evening alone. He'd be exhausted come morning---hell, he was exhausted now---but they'd seen a slump in workers in the forge ever since the cave-in the month before, and fewer were willing to work in such a dangerous environment. Besides, he told himself, if he was to reclaim his homeland as he'd hoped, the extra labor could help get the miners at least a little ahead of last month's inventory. His people would never follow a man who neglected to do his fair share; it was his long hours spent in the forge among other things that Thorin hoped would gain their approval.

Though he was rightfully King Under the Mountain, he had no mountain of which to speak of, or one he'd be happy with ruling anyway. Erebor was his birthright, and though there were many here who mocked him for longing to reclaim it as his own, he still held every intention of setting out to rule it once and for all. He grunted against the long, ringing blow of his axe against the stone and ran a large hand over his sweating brow before bringing the axe down in one quick angry strike. 

His people had yet to recognize him as leader, even here in the Blue Mountains. It was he who led them there, gave them safety and hope in the centers of the tall peaks, but they seemed to want a 'real' king. And they had none. Yet. He had some power here, mainly in those who had been close to him before the attack, but not nearly enough to claim the throne that was rightfully his. Smaug had stolen more than riches when he'd decimated their beloved home. And Thorin was not about to let him forget it. 

Suddenly, an angry roaring shout interrupted the dwarf prince's inner monologue, and he huffed his irritation, sending long brown braids twirling over his nose. He released his pickaxe in one abrupt motion, which spoke of his unabashed exasperation, and relished the piercing clatter it made when it dropped. He snatched a lantern from the wall of the forge, swiped a hand over his reddened face, and set out into the caverns. Aule help whoever he would find at the end of this passage. 

Finding the source of the ruckus took less time than expected, and when he finally happened upon it, about three turns from the origin of the sound, Thorin rolled his eyes in contempt. 

_"Nasty, filthy….Should never have pursued you….Stubborn, wasteful little…."_

A slightly higher voice, a somewhat startling sound compared to the rough baritone of the other, joined the fuss. 

_"Never agreed to anything….Deserve some respect, really, you great, brainless oaf!…" ___

Thorin stifled a chuckle. A lover's quarrel then. He turned to stumble back to the forge when the male's voice dropped to a low snarl and all went silent on the female's end. 

_"…Disgusting WHORE!" _the male bellowed, and suddenly, Thorin's ears were bombarded with the sickening sound of flesh striking flesh. _Repeatedly. _The woman was disturbingly silent, save for a few sharply expelled breaths when she was struck by her assailant's fists. He stood for a split second, utterly dumbfounded what he had unwittingly become witness to, and then charged around the corner with a shout of his own.____

What dim light his lantern offered was just enough to discover which of the two shadows was the male, and he leapt onto the dwarf's broad back. His thick arms made to lock around the stranger's neck, and when they finally came around his meaty throat in a vice-like grip, Thorin was horrified to find it made little difference. It was clear the male dwarf was long gone into whatever rage had led him to this fit of violence, so Thorin released his grip around his neck and instead threw himself over the woman, who lay still but trembling beneath the awful might of the male dwarf's hands. When the stranger's hand sank back to deliver another blow, Thorin seized him by the neck once more, this time successfully pinning the stranger against the opposite wall. 

His elbow came up to crush painfully against the assailant's throat, and he struggled under Thorin's strength with a low hiss. A pair of enormous hands came up to yank painfully at Thorin's hair, but a swift knock to the head by way of Thorin's knuckles quietened him sufficiently. The dwarf prince then leaned slowly in toward the stranger's face, thankful for the cover the darkness provided, and smiled maliciously, even though he doubted the other dwarf could see. 

"I believe the lady asked for a little respect, _dwarf _," he growled into the stranger's ear. "Perhaps you aren't familiar with the laws of my city…." The stranger jerked abruptly beneath Thorin's hold, but he held him fast, slamming him against the wall once more with a grunt.__

"…In my city….those who settle disputes with their fists are considered public enemies….and those," he continued with a mocking lilt to his tone, "who stoop so low as to strike a _woman _….and cause her significant injury….are put to death." _So it was a bit of an exaggeration _. The dwarf would be jailed at best unless the woman was fatally injured….but a little threatening on his part certainly could not hurt.____

"Rotten liar, she is," the stranger panted viciously beneath the weight of Thorin's arm. He could feel the vibrations of the man's larynx quivering under his elbow. "Deserved what she got, the 'ideous little---" 

Thorins' fist came up at that moment to deliver a sharp blow to the stranger's temple, and he grinned a little in a sick sort of satisfaction when the dwarf slumped in his grip. 

_"Enough." _Thorin snarled as he let the man drop to the stone floor with a dull thud. He stood panting for a moment, wiping spittle and a small amount of blood from his mouth, and then felt very much the fool when he remembered the woman behind him. He turned abruptly only to find a huddled shape against the opposite wall. He knelt a little, the hard lines of anger softening in his face, and extended a hand to the shadow. It flinched away.__

"It's all right. I'll not harm you." he offered in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. The shadow moved a little farther away. 

"'M fine," she spat shakily. "Leave me be." The dwarf prince resisted the urge to scoff at her. Like hell she was fine. He'd seen what the brute had done. 

Thorin reached back blindly to grab the abandoned lantern, and when his fingers grazed the solid cool metal of the handle, he raised it slowly to the woman's face. The sparse light revealed what appeared to be a small scrape on her right temple, a vicious black eye and a split lip, which bled freely down onto her chin. Though he hoped those would be the worst of her injuries, the way she wheezed with each breath spoke of greater damage, and he was immediately concerned. Her eyes met his, and though she trembled, her gaze was fierce. 

"See? I told you." Her voice came as a sharp blade in the dark. "'S nothing. Now go." 

_"That," _Thorin countered with a pointed glance at her swollen eye, "is not 'nothing'. You're also bleeding. Quite a lot, I might add." She touched a shaking hand to her lips, her eyes widening a little more when she found her fingertips painted red as she drew them away. Thorin watched as she battled to maintain her gruff exterior. The proud lift of her jaw might have fooled him, but he saw the fear gleaming in her eyes. She curled in a little more on herself, hugging her left arm tightly into her side. Her breathing was still quite raspy and labored, he noted, and he edged a bit closer. His closeness was met with a glare, but he ignored it.__

"Will you let me help you?" he asked as politely as he could muster in the face of her stubbornness. "I'd like to have a look at your side, if you'd permit me." She considered this for a moment, and then slowly and with great hesitation let her arm fall away. The dwarf prince smiled gently at her and nodded his acknowledgement, and reached two large hands out to her. She tensed considerably just before they touched her ribs, and she did not relax until he had finished the troublesome poking and prodding. He could tell that he had hurt her, however careful he had attempted to be, for she had gone rather pale during his inspection. Still, he found it odd that she had yet to panic or cry, or show anything besides contempt. He could deal with those things. This, though, was different. 

"Do you live far from here?" he asked as he sat back on his heels. She stared at him for a long moment, dark eyes boring into his own, and then turned away. 

"In the Eastern Pass," she said, gesturing quickly with her thumb over her shoulder. Thorin nodded. About three hours' journey, he supposed. The healers were far closer, and he couldn't send her on her merry way without first seeing to her injuries. Nor could he leave her sitting alone in the dark as she was. She was a dwarf and certainly more than capable of looking after herself, but he had sincere doubts that she would get far enough away from her assailant with those injuries without being attacked once more. And if he hadn't heard the commotion when he did….well, he shuddered to think of it. His gaze fell once more upon her battered face, and the withering pride he saw behind her wide eyes. She blinked crossly at him and then curled her arms tightly across her abdomen once more.

"We should be going. I would imagine it won't be long before our friend comes to." Thorin said with a look over his shoulder, painfully regretting his words when the woman's jaw tightened and she hastily made to scramble to her feet. He lunged to hold her upright when she wavered, and curved a large hand around the inside of her elbow. His other hand patted hers reassuringly and he stooped a little to meet her uneasy stare.

"I apologize," he said contritely, hand still rubbing against her own smaller one, "It was not my intention to frighten you. I only meant that we sh--"

"You didn't frighten me." she hissed, though her wild eyes and the sudden whiteness of her skin betrayed her. He gave her what must have been a rather doubtful look, for she huffed heatedly at him and set off at a fast limp, leaving him trailing behind her in a near-comical fashion. 

Her speed took him by surprise. Her left ankle was obviously offering quite a bit of trouble, but she gave no signs of slowing down. Thorin was left to almost jog beside her, a wry smile painted over his lips as he rolled his eyes. She was nothing but tenacious, if he had to pick a word for it. He sighed. Typical dwarf woman. 

They had nearly made it to the forge when her pace slowed considerably. He watched her with some concern, as she had taken to breathing rather unevenly and in long, gasping breaths. A little sweat beaded on the crown of her head, just under the dark hairline, and he was just about to suggest they stop for a while and rest when she doubled over beside him and heaved. 

Thorin winced sympathetically as she vomited onto the floor, but smiled a little and shook his head when he realized she was trying her damnedest to keep it quiet. Stubborn and proud even in her illness, it seemed. She was left panting and with shaky knees, but when her hand reached out for support, it sought the solid stone of the wall, and not Thorin's arm. He raised a hesitant hand to her broad back and gently rubbed slow circles over her shoulders. She stiffened at his touch, but the dwarf prince was pleased to find she had relaxed into it after a long moment. 

She sniffled. "S-Sorry…" came the feeble apology. Thorin shook his head, though he knew she couldn't see. His hand patted reassuringly against the back of her neck. 

"That is unnecessary," he scolded her lightly. "Come, the forge is just a few paces that way. We can rest there for a while and get you some water." She considered this for a moment, but finally managed a small nod and slowly rose to her full height once more with a trembling sigh. Though it was difficult to tell in the low light of the metal lantern, Thorin noticed something in her face had changed. The proud facade had nearly faded away, and in its wake had left the face of a tired woman, tired in every sense. He took her elbow once more and passed his thumb gently over the clammy skin of her arm. 

"Come now," he urged her quietly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders when her steps were shaky and uneven. "Just a bit further." She nodded her understanding and allowed him to guide her carefully down the passage, though their pace was considerably slower now that she had been ill. 

She was silent, disturbingly silent, until a misstep sent her pitching forward and in his haste to steady her, Thorin's lantern came crashing to the floor with a loud shattering of glass and the flame completely extinguished against the hard rock. She was back on her feet beside him in the dark within mere seconds, but she wailed beside him, a frightful sound that made his hair stand on end. 

"No matter," he said lightly, though the horrible sound continued. "We'll just be on our--" He might have finished if she had not begun to sob openly next to him, crying with near-shrieks there in the dark. For a moment, he was stunned, and simply stood there in quiet observation. He suspected she might calm immediately, as it seemed to be a trademark of hers to hide any perceived weakness. When she continued, however, he wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders and felt for her hand in the blackness of the cavern. He found it soon, a sweating, quivering, bony thing compared to the solid, warm strength of his own hand, and curled his fingers around it with a tenderness he hadn't known he possessed. 

_"I know, I know," _came his voice, soft over her ears. He had enough tact to forgo asking with a laugh why on earth she was weeping over a little darkness and spilled lantern oil. She had broken beside him, at long last, and he was admittedly very relieved.__

Her cries continued even as he led her forth with a few reassuring words. In fact, she had not calmed even by the time they reached the forge, where there was light enough to see the wetness of her face. Thorin steered her to a small trunk in the corner of the forge, and urged her to sit and take a rest, which she obeyed instantly. 

"Just give me a moment. I'm going to go find some water and--" 

"N-n-no! Please d-don't leave me!" she begged hysterically, snatching his wrist with an iron grip. "Please don't g-go, _p-please! _" Thorin winced a little at her strength, but freed his hand and immediately knelt before her to take her into his arms. He was relieved when she melted into his embrace with fresh sobs, and even a little touched when she clung to him with desperate, trembling hands.__

"I'm right here with you, dear," he soothed her as he swept a warm hand down over her dark hair, "I'm not leaving you. _Shhhh _now, it's all right. It's all right…." He was startled at the force with which she cried, and immediately felt revulsion for her assailant rise in his chest like a red tidal wave. He'd go back and kill the bastard himself once she had calmed. That'd save the courts the trouble of dealing with his sorry head…__

The dwarf woman still clung to him fiercely, and Thorin was happy to hold her just as tight, as she seemed to need the comfort his closeness provided. He had hoped to let her cry for as long as she needed, but he soon realized that her ribs were paying the price of her tears, for she wheezed now between sobs. One hand smoothed over her hair again and he swayed gently with her where he knelt in the dirt. 

"Easy now, easy," he said softly against her ear. "Deep breaths now, dear. Come on. You're safe. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore…Easy…" She still trembled with great force, but was soon reduced to a shuddery breath or a whimper here or there, and after a minute or two more, she pulled away with a soft sigh. 

"I'm very sorry, sir," she muttered in shame, her bruised cheeks visibly blushing scarlet even in the minimal light of the forge. Thorin grunted in reply, though not angrily so, and swiped the last tracks of tears from her face with the backs of his fingers. 

"Think nothing of it. You've every right to be upset. And as it would appear that we are fairly well-acquainted, given the circumstances, you may call me Thorin," he offered sternly even as he rested a hand on her strong shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Her gaze came flying to meet his in an instant. Her brown eyes had gone wider still.

"N-Not Thorin _Oakenshield? _"__

"The same," Thorin replied with a half-smile and a lift of the chin that suggested he relished the sound of his own name. Both of her hands immediately clapped to her mouth and she hurriedly shook her head. 

"Oh no, sire, do forgive me," she said quite meekly, in direct contrast to the bitter tone she'd used with him upon their first meeting. "I am truly grateful for your assistance, though my previous tone may have suggested otherwise. I only mean that I did not intend to cause any inconvenie--"

_"Enough." _Thorin growled, much to her embarrassment and growing horror. He towered over her a long moment, bearded chin jutted out proudly and eyes glimmering in the low light of the forge.__

"This was not an inconvenience," he continued in that same low, menacing tone, though judging by the way she straightened a little under his gaze, the woman had realized his anger was not directed at her. His eyes lowered sharply to pierce hers with their thunderous stare. "And furthermore, I would hope you don't value yourself so little that you think only of how my time could have been spent elsewhere. If I hadn't heard your shouting, I think we both know too well what could have happened."

She nodded her understanding, and though she was still visibly nervous, he noted that she no longer cowered under the weight of his stare. He allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch upward a little, though the memory of the attack left his fists clenched tightly at his sides. 

With that, he turned away and snatched an empty mug from the ground near his workstation. His pickaxe was still lying abandoned on the rock, where it had clattered and clanged in the dark just before he'd set off to investigate the commotion. He filled the mug with cool water from the barrel in the opposite corner, and handed it to her with a friendly nod. 

"Drink as much as you are able, but do not make yourself ill," he told her. "I'm going to look for any bandages we might have handy. May as well get you cleaned up while you're settled, hmm?" She laughed--a shrill, watery sound, but Thorin was all too relieved to hear it--and nodded before drinking a long pull of the water. 

Thorin searched the old medical cabinet they kept just outside the door for anything of use, and returned to the dwarf woman with a roll of bandages, a small bowl, two cloths and a jar of salve, which was nearly empty. She hesitantly set the mug of water aside, watching a bit warily as Thorin took the bowl over to the barrel and filled it halfway with water. He then knelt before her, closer than she had anticipated, it seemed, judging by the little gasp she gave, and slowly raised a hand to her head. 

"You're all right," he reassured her when she pulled back a little from his touch. "It may sting a little, but we can't have these getting infected." Thorin was pleased, even proud of her, when she took a deep breath and leaned forward into his hand, where he dabbed the wetted cloth gently against the broken skin of her temple. 

The gash still bled, though only enough to stain the cloth a light pinkish hue, but her split lip had left a trail of crimson stuck trailing down her chin. She winced away when he dabbed at the dried blood on her lower lip, and he handed the second cloth to her to stem the bleeding while he opened the jar of salve and gently applied it to the scrape on her temple.

"I'm Lorel, by the way," she said softly, though the shakiness in her voice seemed long gone. Thorin grinned as he dabbed more of the salve into the scrape. 

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Lorel," he said by way of acknowledgement, his eyes crinkling around his smile. He handed her a cloth soaked in cold water after squeezing out the excess liquid. "Hold this against your eye, please. It will help with the swelling." She laughed softly and did as she was told, watching curiously as he unrolled an arm's length of bandages. 

"Surely I don't need all of that," she said incredulously. "The bleeding's nearly stopped!" Thorin chuckled and rose to his feet with the bandages in hand. 

"For your ribs, Miss Lorel. I don't like that rattling sound in your lungs at all." He approached her, telling her quietly to exhale as much as she could and then wait for him to wrap the bandages around her midsection. "I'll be quick," he promised. 

She inhaled deeply, coughing a little when she'd clearly done too much, and breathed slowly out. She nodded to him and he feverishly began to wrap the roll of bandages around her solid waist, noting that she was far from waif-like, a trait that surely made her the envy of many a dwarven woman in these tunnels. When satisfied that his efforts would serve to at least relieve some of the pain until she had rested sufficiently, Thorin tied the loose ends of the bandage into a tight knot and patted her shoulder. 

"There we are," he said with a heavy sigh, reaching up to pull her hand away from her swollen and bruised eye. "Has the swelling gone down at all?"

"I think so," came her soft reply. "Can't be sure without a looking glass, though." She laughed a little and lowered her eyes, and Thorin found himself laughing too and watching her carefully. She had an abundance of thick, dark hair, that much was true, and it stuck out in odd places here and there, but a few locks framed her swollen face. One eye, the one that had not been bruised, gleamed earth brown in the low light. The corner of Thorin's mouth twitched upward. Muddied up and bleeding and there was still a lovely woman underneath it all. 

"He was wrong to call you ugly," he said softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder when her gaze dropped abruptly to her lap, where her hands folded together in one great, wriggling mass. 

"'s my betrothed," she sniffled with a shrug and a short, bitter laugh. "I thought we'd worked nicely together but he thought he'd seen me ogling another fellow and well, you saw what 'e did." She focused once more on her hands, startling backward a little when Thorin covered them with one of his own. He said nothing for fear of shouting and sending her into a cowering heap, but his eyes blazed. 

They watched each other a while longer, and he was pleased when she refused to break her stare. _Brave girl was finding her bearings again, it seemed. _He finally managed a friendly smile and offered his arm to her, which she grasped gratefully in two shaky hands.__

"Shall we?"

She nodded, and the two set off again into the darkness, and it was a curious thing to behold; the woman, called Lorel, clutched carefully at the dwarf prince's arm, head held high and steps sure and steady once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get little Fili and Kili and an interesting turn of events in this chapter :D
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNING: VIOLENCE*
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I'd love some feedback, as I'm not entirely used to writing action in this way. 
> 
> Anything is much appreciated! Thank you so much!

She was alone, dreadfully, miserably alone. His hands snatched roughly at her face, pulling her hair and bruising the skin. She latched her strong hands around his wrists and tried to shove him away, but even her strength was no match for his and he overpowered her. His dark, hulking mass of a body towered over her and with a push from his huge hands, he sent her sprawling to the ground where she landed with an angry huff. Her fury escalated when his greedy fingers grabbed for her chest and she lashed out with one stinging slap to his face and a swift kick to his gut. Anger soon dissolved to terror when she realized her dreadful mistake. He turned to her, face black with hate, blood and spittle leaking from his lower lip, and he lunged for her in the dark….

And she was all alone.

…Wait…or was she? It was warmer here, almost stifling with the waves of heat and sweat rolling from her body, and it was softer and much more quiet. She couldn't see, but it was clear that she was not lost and left to rot upon the cold stone floor of the mine. In fact, was that a quilt that covered her, a tad worn but still welcoming? She sniffled into what she presumed was a pillow and groaned a little under her breath when a dull ache settled into the whole of her body. Ah. Yes. Now she remembered. 

Oh, how she remembered. 

Lorel shifted under the quilt, inhaling swiftly with the pain that accompanied the movement, and was about to settle back into sleep when a large hand came out from the darkness to rest on her shoulder. She gasped, lurching backward with a startled cry and promptly fell back to the mattress once more when a sharp sensation lanced through her ribs. 

"You're all right, you're all right," a voice was saying softly in the dark. She recognized the low baritone instantly and heaved an audible sigh of relief. Thorin, that was what he was called. He had found her and imposed his aid upon her, which she had so foolishly pushed away at first. She smiled a little, satisfied in knowing that he could not see it. If she had to wake to anyone in her current state, she supposed she was thankful it was he.

"I'm sorry, sir," she apologized in a strained whisper, as though afraid she might disrupt the quiet of the night. "I didn't reali---" He hushed her immediately, something she would have found rude in any other circumstance, but something she found immensely reassuring in this particular moment. She didn't have to explain herself or apologize or even speak. He understood. That large hand of his was still there, tracing slow, easy circles over her shoulder, and he was still speaking softly.

"Go back to sleep," he was saying, "You're safe now, and I'm right here, right here…" She could have wept of embarrassment at his open compassion, a king trying to soothe her like an infant, but instead chose to latch onto his soft promises. For now, anyway. Maybe he was terribly wrong and life would fall apart again by morning. She suspected it might be true, but for tonight, all she knew was the low rumble of his voice and the warmth of the blankets that covered her. 

And it was enough. 

 

***

Lorel woke some hours later to the sound of heavy boots in an adjacent room and the slight clanging of a pan on the stone hearth of the fireplace. The smell of meat soon followed, along with a low sizzling down the hall, and the dwarf woman realized with a wry smile that she was much more famished than she'd thought. She sat up a little too quickly, and after waiting for the aching in her limbs and torso to subside, rose to her feet and gingerly stretched her stiff back. A quick glance around the room told her she was most definitely not at home.

The room was positively bare, save for the large bed she'd slept in and a wooden chair to the left of that. Draped haphazardly across the wooden chair was a thick fur, which hung precariously just over a candlestick on the floor. Upon closer inspection, Lorel found the wax on the candle was still wet, and when she recognized the earthy scent upon the folds of the fur, she knew exactly whose room she had slept in that night.

The King had lent her his room---The King Under the Mountain, of all dwarrow---and he had sat with her throughout the night. Yes, that had been his hand that had soothed her so gently back to sleep, but why on earth had he remained with her for so long? Embarrassed and feeling dreadfully out of place, the dwarf woman smoothed her hands over her dark hair in an attempt to salvage what she could of her appearance (now that she had been left bloodied and swollen…). She doubted it made any difference once she'd finished, but she was not about to ask that man for a comb. She huffed to herself. He'd already seen her cry, vomit, and wince multiple times in the last day. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of knowing she was just as vain as she was weak. 

Lifting her chin in the hopes of dashing the trepidation she felt, Lorel made her way down the hall and to the left, where the scent of cooked meat elicited a low growl from her stomach. The King was at the stove, frying a pan of sausages, and at his heels were two dwarflings who immediately froze and peered up at her with wide, curious eyes. When the oldest, a blonde boy in grey underclothes took off and ran for the table, the dark-haired toddler behind him followed suit, sucking his thumb and looking for all the world like he'd seen a monster come to life. 

Both boys regarded her with wary eyes, even when she stooped a little to smile at them, and it was then that Master Oakenshield noticed her presence in the doorway of the kitchen. He offered a gentle half-smile in her direction.

"Hello, Miss Lorel," he said as he removed the pan of sausages from the stove and extinguished the flame with a mug of water. "I trust you are well this morning?" One dark eyebrow rose high on his forehead as he awaited her reply and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly. She wasn't a child.

"I'm fine," she replied, nodding a little for emphasis when he shot her a dubious glance. She was relieved when he turned around after a moment, searching the floor around him with a puzzled stare.

"Fili? Kili?" he was muttering as he turned in a small circle, features brightening upon discovering the two children huddled underneath the table across the room. "Ah, there you are, boys. Come on out and say hello to Miss Lorel." The King Under the Mountain was met with blank stares from both dwarflings. He stooped a little, his face suddenly more stern, and beckoned to the two boys. 

"Come now. Where are your manners? You must remember how we treat guests, lads…" There was a long pause and Lorel moved to say something, to wave it off and reassure him that she didn't expect two young children to stand on ceremony with a total stranger in their home, but suddenly, two little faces were peering up at her with unabashed curiosity. She smiled back in what she hoped was a friendly manner, but was admittedly startled when the toddler pointed straight at her nose with wide eyes.

"She fall down, Unca Thorin?" he chirped loudly, much to what appeared to be Thorin's embarrassment. The King watched Lorel carefully for a moment before clearing his throat to speak.

"Miss Lorel was in a very unfortunate incident, boys," he said cautiously, casting a meaningful glance in her direction, "But now that she's here, we can help her feel better again, yes?" Both little faces positively lit up and suddenly, Lorel found herself being tugged over to a seat at the table. 

"Yeah! Can she sit next to me, Uncle?" the blonde boy nearly shrieked from her side, "Can she?" Lorel was admittedly both amused and impressed at the dwarf's patience, for he replied to the request without a single glance over his shoulder as he divided up breakfast onto four plates.

"She may if she chooses to, Fili," he said firmly. "Do not go pulling her about like that, boys. Her hurts are still sore." She nodded her thanks when a plate of sausage was placed before her, chuckling to herself when both boys dug right in to either side. She hadn't much of an appetite as a keen ache had settled into her bones, but she knew she'd only feel worse if she went without. As she nibbled at her breakfast, Thorin slowly took a seat across from her and picked at his own plate solemnly. It was silent for a moment before Fili, the boy with the blonde braids, piped up to Lorel's right. 

"Uncle Thorin, how long is Miss Lorel staying?" he cut into his sausage with his fork and chewed the piece ravenously. The dwarf king was about to reply when Lorel turned to face the young lad.

"I'll be leaving today, I should think," she said, hoping she didn't sound too terribly ungracious. "No need to take advantage of your hospitality when I can return home and care for myself." Thorin was staring at her in warning and Fili looked disappointed, but chose to stay quiet about it. His uncle, however, leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"I would much prefer it if you remained with us for a while, Miss Lorel," he said gravely, piercing blue eyes refusing to leave hers. "Both in regards to your injuries and…other circumstances." The dwarf woman felt her brow wrinkle in confusion. There was something in his face that told her there was something he had to say that was not for the children's ears. When he turned back to his plate after a long moment, Lorel followed suit, though she risked a suspicious glance in the King's direction from time to time. 

When both boys had cleaned their plates, the king gently urged them to go play quietly by the hearth, where little carved figurines lay scattered about before the roaring fire. Naturally, both children were all too eager to obey, and once both were settled into a detailed game of pretend, Thorin approached the table and silently beckoned Lorel forth to join him in the kitchen. Her heart fluttered nervously in her chest. Something wasn't quite right, and she was about to hear all about it, judging by the hard lines that creased his face.

Thorin settled a small stack of soiled dishes into the small sink and then turned to face her with a nearly unreadable expression, save for the softness of his blue eyes. She guessed whatever he had to say was going to be difficult to take in, and she steeled herself for the blow. She was a strong, capable dwarf, Lorel reminded herself. She didn't need his pity or his reassurance. Her dark eyes narrowed impatiently when he failed to speak up, and he swiped a large hand tiredly down his bearded face. 

"I sent several members of the guard out to locate our friend last night, if you remember," he said, snarling a little at the mention of Lorel's assailant. Lorel raised an eyebrow and nodded, fixing him with an expectant stare. She had been knocked around, but it hadn't suddenly made her an idiot. Of course she remembered his promise the night before. It was the only reassurance he had given that had allowed her to drift off to sleep easily and quietly, she recalled with some measure of shame. Thorin's eyes closed tightly shut and he shook his head in exasperation.

"I….I received word early this morning that they were unable to locate him," he explained in a low voice, eyes searching hers for any sign of fear or panic. "More members of the guard have since joined the search, and until he is found and rightly punished, I feel it would be best if you remained here with my family." Her nod of agreement seemed to take him completely by surprise, for his eyes widened and his jaw drooped in a most comical fashion. He blinked dumbly at her for a moment before she snorted a little at his expense and waved off his expression.

"I don't believe either of us expected that I'd say this, but I agree with you, Master Oakenshield." She kept her chin held high and tried to keep her hands from trembling at her sides. "He would likely murder me if I were caught alone again." The sarcastic quip was meant to encourage a chuckle from the stone-faced dwarf, but his face only hardened and paled a little at her words. It was silent for a moment longer before Lorel's eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her mouth, which prompted a worried glance from the dwarf king. 

"All of my clothing is back in my home," she said, smirking when Thorin sighed and rolled his eyes in relief. "I don't suppose I could make a short trip and…" He lifted a large hand to silence her, and Lorel's face went scarlet when she realized she had flinched back from him like an animal. His eyes softened and he slowly lowered his hand before stooping a little to meet her gaze.

"That should hardly be a problem. The boys will be fine here for an hour or two until Dis arrives home again." They both turned to find both boys still playing happily by the fireplace, Kili smashing his toy warrior into Fili's with a loud cry. Thorin turned back to Lorel, face slightly aglow after watching his nephews play, and raised an eyebrow. 

"Shall we?" he asked, and Lorel nodded in reply, smirking her thanks. Lorel went to the sink and splashed a bit of water onto her swollen face while Thorin went to the boys and crouched down in the middle of their game to speak to them in a low voice. There were two little excited nods of understanding and then it was back to their game, screaming and all. They exited Thorin's home quietly, making sure to lock the door as they went, and they then veered right in the direction of the Eastern Pass. It was a long while before either of them spoke, and when the king finally found his nerve, it came as a shy, reluctant question.

"Are…Are you well?" he asked carefully, though the usual hard lines of his face were still visible in the low light of the passage. Lorel blinked dumbly, but after a moment's thought, she smiled slightly and nodded in reply. 

"Of course," she said over a chuckle. "Why on earth wouldn't I be?" She was startled when the King Under the Mountain let out an amused snort and swiped his hand down his face in lighthearted exasperation.

"Well there is the small matter of your ribs, and also your face," he retorted before falling back into the old stonyfaced expression that seemed to be his trademark. "You know perfectly well what I meant." Lorel rolled her eyes, and waved him off when he caught the gesture and shot glare in her direction. Together, they veered left down one of the outer tunnels, and Lorel shuffled her feet absentmindedly along the wet floor of the passage. The winter snow was melting at long last, and some of it was seeping through the cracks of the cavern above, leaving icy puddles all along the path. She managed to pick out a small stone in her way by the dim light of the torches lining the hall, and gently kicked it into a small puddle ahead, where it landed with a soft splish in the water. 

"My sister's story is not unlike yours."

Lorel paused a moment, startled by the low sound of Thorin's voice in the silence of the tunnel. She was about to turn on him indignantly, to tell him he knew nothing of her story, but she thought better of it when she saw the anger and agony etched into his face. He was quiet a moment as they continued on, but soon enough he continued on with a heavy sigh.

"He was never a fair or kind fellow. She would come home with injuries similar to yours on the nights they would fight, and once she learned she was pregnant with Fili, I ordered her to come home." The snarl in his voice was unmistakable, and Lorel unconsciously put a little more room between the two of them. 

"Dis remained with me until Fili was born, but he came back for her with all manner of silver words and promises and apologies," he went on, "So she returned to their home. Dis came home a week later with a split lip and things only escalated from there. She was thankfully wise enough to leave once she had conceived Kili, and the scum was apprehended soon after." The silence that fell hung heavily in the air like a thick fog. Lorel smirked half-heartedly. If anything, it at least explained why he was so insistent with his help, however fussy it seemed. Seeing as though her companion seemed to be utterly lost in his own thoughts after the admission, they walked together in silence the remainder of the trip. When the pathway opened to a sleepy collection of shops and a scattering of homes, Lorel took the lead and made her way to a small cottage on the north end of the square.

The homes to either side had been abandoned shortly after she had moved in with Rewan and the fighting began. She supposed the neighbors did not appreciate the solid crack of his fist against the interior walls or the roaring boom of his voice when she'd broken a plate by mistake. She could scarcely begin to blame them, instead feeling a pang of envy for the freedom they possessed. They had been free to leave and move to a friendlier part of town. She hadn't been so fortunate.

Lorel reached for the door, startled when Thorin slapped her hand away and turned the doorknob himself. He peered inside cautiously before nodding and beckoning her into the room, where two torches burned low on the walls. The kitchen was a catastrophe as always, she noticed, and much to her relief, it appeared that the house had been untouched since they'd left the night before. 

"We'd best leave soon," Thorin whispered in her ear, "Grab what you may and we'll go." She nodded and was about to make for her bedroom door when the sound of booming footsteps thundered in her ears. Next to her, Thorin coughed sharply in a hideous gagging sound and then suddenly he was gone, pulled behind her roughly as his boots scrambled for purchase on the floorboards. Lorel turned to find her beast of a betrothed with his meaty hands clasped tightly around the king's throat, leering at her with a sickening stare. The dwarf king spluttered furiously in Rewan's grasp, snarling viciously when the taller dwarf pinned his swinging arms in a vice-like grip. 

"Come to apologize, bitch?" the taller dwarf growled dangerously, steel grey eyes glinting in the low firelight. "Or perhaps my new friend was planning to bed y'like the whore y---"

"Enough!" Thorin rasped from beneath the pressure of Rewan's great hand, which was still locked firmly around his neck. The dwarf king struggled in the other dwarf's firm hold, frustration and a want for air turning his face scarlet in his efforts. Lorel felt her heart leap to her throat, blood pounding furiously in her ears as she locked eyes with her betrothed, and before she knew what she had done, she found herself standing nose to nose with him, lips curled back in her own animalistic snarl.

"Listen here you fucking ingrate," she spat, hands suddenly coming to latch painfully onto the weathered skin of Rewan's tattooed arms. "If you think I'm here to come crawling back to you like some common maggot…" She gave his arms a sharp pull, only to find that once they gave way, one sank back to deliver a hard blow to Thorin's jaw and send him sprawling into the kitchen table. Rewan's arms then locked her firmly back against his chest, and Lorel fought his strength until the cool sting of a blade met the skin of her neck. 

She froze, wincing when the blade was pressed against the skin just enough to draw a trickle of blood, which flowed ominously down the length of her neck. Thorin was still with horror on the floor, enraged but terrified to move should Rewan press the blade deeper still. 

"Y'don't speak to me like that, wench," the dwarf hissed venomously into her ear. "Thought y'd learnt that a long while back. Perhaps y'need to learn again…" The blade was slowly withdrawn from her neck, and Lorel might have felt relieved if it hadn't then been pressed hard to her cheek. With one expert flick of his wrist, Rewan slicked the blade through the soft skin of her cheek, leaving an red, angry cut in its wake. Lorel winced, but gritted her teeth regardless and seized Rewan's right hand to wrestle his meaty fingers for the knife. She was vaguely aware that Thorin was moving on the floor, lurching to his feet with a grunt and stumbling to her aid. 

Lorel's grip remained strong even as Rewan crashed to the floor under the weight of the dwarf king, and when the blade clattered to the side, she lunged for it with desperate hands. Once she'd retrieved her prize, she returned to her betrothed to straddle his waist, pinning his arms under her strength as she stared menacingly into his eyes. Thorin tried to take the blade from her hand, but a furious glare told him to back away. The king couldn't have him. He was hers. 

"That's more like it, lass," Rewan rasped from where he lay pinned and out of breath beneath Lorel's weight. "Y'always were a feisty one." Lorel leaned far into his face, lips curled back and eyes wide with fury. 

"Enough," she seethed. "I've. Had. Enough." With that, she lifted one hand and swiftly plunged the blade into his chest, trying to ignore the crack of bone and the slick of blood on metal. She watched in a sort of sickening triumph as Rewan went limp beneath her and all went quiet. Lorel sat for a long time, staring at what remained of the terror that had held her captive the last several years. She was utterly embarrassed to find that as she stared into his lifeless face, tears began to pool in her eyes. One hand came up to swipe impatiently at them and she huffed heatedly. 

She didn't love him. And clearly, he never loved her. So why the fuss? But try as she may, the tears only fell faster down her cheeks, and it was only a mere moment before she was a hysterical mess over the body of her once-betrothed. Another moment passed before the king suddenly reached for her and pulled her slowly into his arms. Angrily, she thumped a fist against his chest and became instantly annoyed when it did nothing to send him away. He was carding a hand over her hair now and whispering unintelligible things that she supposed were meant to comfort her. And through her tears, she rolled her eyes. 

Embarrassed and overwhelmed, she clung to him after a few long minutes once she realized that he wasn't about to leave or push her away. Some time later, once she'd been reduced to a few shakes and sniffles against the warm fur of his overcoat, she risked a glance back at Rewan's lifeless form. Thorin watched her carefully before planting a kiss into her hair and drawing her closer still.

"It's over now," he said gently. "All over."

And through her tears, Lorel beamed. 

It was over.

All over.


End file.
